A soft christening of strings:
the crinkled promises of Gods and Kings.
Smells of pine a-mist frozen rivers.
Dark blue nights wrapped up silent shivers.
Times forgotten shine like stars
above a crystal white blanket, spread far.
Inside, the color red spills into wooden creaks
casting tasty ribbons across pink cheeks.
Candies and sweet drinks and itchy warmth
fill up small bellies beside simple hearths.
While those at the table have mingled thoughts
of goals forgotten and memories lost